Blood of The Hunt (Re-Upload)
by Coconut of Doom
Summary: The dream of a Hunter.


_**Blood of the Hunt**_

* * *

It was an ecstasy.

The blood soaring through the air.

The smell of the copper staining his senses.

His brown suit darkening red with each swing.

The smile that grew on his chapped lips.

The swinging of his saw.

The uncontrolled joy as he slew another beast.

The meaty sounds as he cut and sawed and cleaved through fur and flesh.

It was all a euphoria that would surge uncontrollably through his veins.

Boiling his own blood as he grinned, the heat of combat never ending.

The sound of spurting blood like a music box's beautiful chime.

The screams of the dying abominations a pure hobby to him.

And he swung forward, decapitating another werewolf.

The head rolled to the side, blood gushing from the separation.

A limp whimper as the thing died in true.

This was his dream.

A nightmare to some.

A bountiful sleep to him.

How long had he been asleep?

Not even he could say.

But he did not argue.

He only fought.

He only killed.

He only hunted.

The streets of Yharnam being his valid grounds.

A nonstop game where blood was the reward.

An intoxicating substance that was more rewarding than what met the eye.

He heard shuffling brickwork behind him and turned, his teeth showing in a gritty display of terrifying glee.

His eyes a bloodshot mix of white and red surrounding an iris of pure purple.

His hair a black mess reaching to his shoulders; greasy and unkempt.

The night had taken a long toll on his hygiene.

He then swung forward again, his trick weapon extending outwards with a sharp metallic crash, and laughed as the sharp edges slashed away at the face of the beast.

It howled, recoiling and grasping at its wound - snarling as it did so.

He swung again, stepping forward and spraying more blood all around.

The flooring was already drowned in a bright, glorious red.

But the werewolf, recovering from the sudden shock, jumped hungrily at him.

Claws extended, teeth jagged, tongue waggling.

But the Hunter merely ducked, a graceful and unconcerned movement as the beast flew above him.

A sudden and deafening explosion sounded off, sparks flying everywhere, and blood spurted forth onto the lips of the Hunter.

He had fired a bullet into the beast in its flight.

It screamed, its menacing howls becoming nothing more than pitiful whimpers as it landed and skidded upon the brickwork of the old bridge.

The Hunter only watched - his grin evolving into a wide and toothy smile.

His eyes were wide as he watched the blood drain from the beast's stomach.

All the while it kicked and whimpered, tossed and turned, the pain being a deadly mistress.

_ Another disturbance…_

He turned, eyes wide, and slid back.

A narrow avoidance of another werewolf's dirty claws.

He retaliated, bringing his saw into the air and coming down with a force that could easily behead a normal wolf.

But the saw only found itself stuck into the nasty beast's hide.

It howled in a semblance of broiling pain, jumping back and detaching the Hunter's grip.

"Bloody 'ell!" He yelled. "Know yer place, beast!"

A normal man would hesitate and keep their distance in a moment like this, but the Hunter was no normal man.

He broke into a full on sprint, his formal shoes stained with the blood of his prey degrading further as he closed the distance in a rapid and hungry charge.

His mouth wide open, his teeth gritted tight as he awaited another frenzy of joy.

His eyes unblinking as he focused them onto the beast's own soulless mirrors.

It returned the gesture, jumping at him with a belief of victory.

_But, oh how wrong it was…_

Right as their faces met, he sidestepped and struck the beast aside with an ungloved hand.

The strength being unnatural for a normal human, and the werewolf collapsed aside.

He didn't wait and ran up on the beast, reloading as he moved in an untroubled fashion, and pulled the trigger once more against the beast's temple.

Blood sprayed onto his face as the beast died.

And his smile couldn't grow anymore.

But the whimpers of another continued to echo in his ears and slowly his eyes trailed to the bleeding form of the beast he had wounded only moments ago.

A firm hand on the hilt, he pulled and he pulled, freeing the trick weapon from the insides of the nasty beast.

More blood sprayed onto him, and he chuckled as he twirled his flintlock upon a single finger.

Slowly, he approached the dying beast.

Smiling eagerly as it whimpered and kicked, a supposed response to fear.

But beasts don't fear, they only kill.

And as he found himself standing over it, he could only admire what drained steadily from its gut.

A beautiful red that made the world a magical place.

A beautiful red that made it all a sane reality.

Without hesitation he swung downwards, slicing into the neck of the dying beast.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Each cut a meaty and bloody display.

Each cut leading into a new feeling of pride and happiness.

Each cut leading him to more of the substance he craved so readily.

A final heavy slice, and the head was separated from its shoulders.

And as he observed the beautiful substance drain away and the nasty wolf-like head roll aside, he thought simply to himself…

"_Blessed are those who partake in the Hunt…_"

"_Blessed be those who partake in the blood…_"

"_Oh Great Ones, hear my prayer…_"

"_Bless us with blood…_"

"_Bless us with good blood…_"


End file.
